


The Monster's Name Was Jealousy

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Drabble, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 19:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The monster's name was jealousy, and it waited patiently in a vicious pose for Sherlock Holmes to weaken his hold on the leash.





	The Monster's Name Was Jealousy

The name of the monster was jealousy.

The air swooshed behind it in a million microscopic tornadoes. Clouds were easily dispersed by a wave of it's head. The sun was eclipsed when it stood to full height, and when it breathed a hurricane rose up from its massive lungs. When it moved, the resulting vibrations created tsunamis that flushed out coastal cities.

Sickly green scales covered it's gigantic body, pointed spikes the colour of decaying ivory the length of a tree, stronger then steel and sharper than a butcher knife covered it's entire body like a mutated porcupine. 

Poison dripped from every pore, and muscles tensed with ultimate potential. Legs the size of sky scrapers, and a tail longer then a river with a wrecking ball the size of the London eye growing from the tip, it was a round boney mass stronger then diamonds and with the capability of demolishing a mountain with one swift blow. Arms that matched the legs ended in claws that could carve a grand canyon out of the Sahara. It's nose was capable of tracking a single mosquito, and it's ears was able to hear the heart beat of a flea thousands of miles away, a unparalleled predator whose potential was restrained by a leash and a muzzle made of the strongest material known to man. Will power.

The monster's name was jealousy, and it waited patiently in a vicious pose for Sherlock Holmes to weaken his hold on the leash. To drop the leash would be to ruin a friendship with a man who loved someone else, and Sherlock would not risk that. 

John strode around through his daily life unaware of the monster that cast it's shadow over him, he never looked up and wondered why the world was darker then he remembered it, and he never felt the deadly spikes brush past him. He was oblivious, and lived his life accordingly. Sherlock didn't know how John didn't notice how his hair ruffled by the tempest that was the monster's exhale, and he didn't know how John managed to walk right through the skyscraper legs as if they were not there. The monster knew it was invisible to John and so it tempted Sherlock by lifting a huge claw and making as if to impale John on it, those were the times when Sherlock almost said,

“Skip your date and stay. Please?”

But the monster could never hurt anyone who couldn't see it, so Sherlock held himself back and curled on the sofa, clutching the leash tightly.

If John ever wondered why Sherlock's fists were always clenched he didn't ask.

.....Johns monster.......  
A Monster Named Desire

Flaming, passionate eyes and a wing span that could shield all of Russia from falling stars made up the creature that John had been keeping as a pet. He had found an egg that vibrated with possibilities while chasing Sherlock through a dark alley one night. It felt as if the egg had been following him, hiding in his peripheral vision for months, but it was not until that night that John paused and picked up the dusty pink egg that fit nicely into his palm. He had not told Sherlock, because how could he keep insisting that his mad flatmate should not keep pets for experiments, if he himself was going to experiment keeping an egg as a pet? 

The egg found a home in which ever jacket John wore, always safely in the unseen depths of a pocket where he could hold it when it was too cold to keep his hands out of his coat. Sherlock had offered to buy him gloves, but John had declined because then he would have no reason to keep his hands in his pockets stroking the egg.

The egg hatched one morning right after John had stumbled into the kitchen at 6 am in search of breakfast before work. Sherlock had fallen asleep on the counter, petri dishes (hopefully clean ones) were digging into his cheek bones, when he awoke and groggily looked at John, the wide circles the glass had left imprinted on his face made John smile fondly. Too fondly. The sound of a breaking eggshell had John dashing back into his room where leaning against the wall, he looked at the tiny creature that was shaking off the remnants of egg shell as it rolled around on the carpet. 

Soon the fluffy little creature had quickly grown too large for the flat, so it instead perched on the roof, watching baker street and carefully aiming it's rear so it could relieve itself directly on top of the black cars that would sometimes park at 221B Bakerstreet and force it's owner into its leather seats. John never had to feed the creature and he never had to wash it either, the creature was independant but seemed to consider Bakerstreet to be it's home. However on nights when he did not want to go back to his life with Mary or when he realized that he had made a mistake, he would climb onto the roof and sit next to the creature, and let it wrap a leathery wing around him as he wished his life away. He should have known that he was making a mistake when the creature had refused to follow him to his wedding. It had flown behind the car the drove to Baskerville and it had shielded him from the sad gazes of those who had gone to Sherlock's funeral, but it shied away from Mary and had hissed at her when she came too close. It had stayed when John moved out of Bakerstreet, and it was still there when he came back to talk to the newly resurrected Sherlock. The creature was fond of Sherlock, always giving a content squawk when he did something brilliant, but it seemed to cower from something invisible that was always just behind the detective, as if the empty air that surrounded the detective could tear it in two.

**Author's Note:**

> Barely edited and unfinished. Sorry.


End file.
